


duplicitous

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Marvel
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Held Down, Intersex Loki, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 02:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4122280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki may be a bastard, but Thor makes a false accusation of him and must lay an apology at his brother’s feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	duplicitous

Thor is angry. In fact, one might say he truly has **surpassed** anger and moved straight to _fury_ , because his expression is fierce and his stride stiff as he marches with speed and **loud** sound down the corridor, heavy bootsteps echoing down the marble-floored corridor until he reaches his brother's door and kicks it open with a sharp **crack** from its mahogany surface hitting hard against the inside wall.

Loki doesn't so much as blink.

He is reclined as a housecat might be, sprawled over a couch with his pale nose in a book, his pretty eyes concentrated on stout, gold text that Thor recognizes as that of the Dvergar, but cannot read himself – whilst Allspeak well encompasses the spoken tongue, it does not stretch to the written word, and Loki is one of the few Thor knows who can read almost every language of Asgard.

“Hello, Thor.” Loki says languidly.

“Get up.” Thor says harshly, the order followed by a _crackle_ of electricity that sings through the air. Loki glances to him without care, and then looks back to his book.

“No.” Loki refuses in a casual tone.

“Does my tone imply **jest** , brother? Do my features reveal mirth?”

“One might feel mirth in **looking** at your features, Thor, unfortunate as they are, but-” Loki is cut off, choking as Thor lifts him by his throat, one heavy hand easily coiled about his pale throat, and Thor stares at him, now that Loki is forced to stare back. Loki's airy expression alters, and instead his dark brow furrows as he regards Thor with something _almost_ akin to perplexity. “Let me **go** , Thor.” Loki says, imperiously.

Thor drops him straight onto the marble floor, but Loki is cat-like in more ways than one: he lands upon his feet, and he stands straight, stepping forwards so that they can be chest to chest.

“If you touch Mjeif again, Loki, I'll not merely grasp for your throat, but _slit_ it with a blade.” Loki recoils, expression not only _confused_ now, but **laughing**.

“I've not touched your **MARE** , Thor. Do you truly think I have nought to do but harass your _horse_? I have been here, amongst my books.” Loki says with a _small_ chuckle, and Thor stares at him stonily.

“Mjeif's mane is as green as new grass.”

“Mjeif's mane was likely the victim of an enchanted colouring powder. The Ljósálfar delight in importing such _joke_ products. It might have been _anyone_.” Thor feels his cheeks begin to turn ruddy as he regards his brother, and Loki **rolls** his eyes. Used as his brother may be to false accusation, Thor feels guilt settle heavily upon his heart. “Why _ever_ would I enchant your **horse** , Thor? I have a _fondness_ for Mjeif, as much as you do.”

“My- my apologies, brother, I did not-” With a flick of his right hand and a burst of seiðr, Loki pushes the door behind them shut (Thor guiltily notes the black spiderweb of cracks his ire had affected the door's handle to leave in the plaster of the wall, but Loki will remember to draw from him some reimbursement later on), and then both of his slender hands settle upon Thor's wide chest.

“You are forgiven. Or, you **might** be, with proper apology. **You** need not apologize with your **mouth** , of course, Thor,” Loki says, and then he drops back onto his sofa once more, spreading his legs wide and offering Thor a _smirk_. “Unless you truly _wish_ to.”

“You are an _insatiable_ harlot.” Thor says lowly, but Loki has most certainly gained Thor's attention, and he need not tend to Mjeif's dyed hair with immediacy. Loki is **smug** in his place, and with a snap of his fingers his own clothes are folded neatly upon the other chair in Loki's quarters. Struck with childish impudence, Thor grabs at the neat pile and throws it aside, leaving Loki's trousers and blouse and undergarments strewn over the marble floor instead.

“ _Thor_.” Loki says, sounding more amused than chiding. Thor looks from his pleased expression to what lies between his legs: Loki's cock is stiff and proud against his belly, and beneath his cunny is beginning to shine _slick_ under the bright light from the latticed windows; Loki's arse, from the attention Thor had laid upon it the night just passed, remains pink and slightly open, twitching for the cool air of the room.

“To what part of you ought I lay my mouth as an apology, brother?” Thor asks, and he drops to his knees, delivering a kiss to the very inside of Loki's left knee. “Here?” Another is laid upon the right, and Loki responds by shifting, putting both of his legs over Thor's shoulders and dragging the larger man forwards by the hair, still Thor's breath is hot over the very base of Loki's cock.

“ _There_ will do.” Loki murmurs, voice a low purr, and Thor chuckles, dragging his tongue up the base of Loki's prick and keeping his gaze intent upon his brother's features; Loki lets out a soft _sigh_ , almost blissful, as his head tips back and he leans up and into Thor's mouth. Thor knows how best to please Loki, when Loki wishes to be pleased, and so he drags his tongue deftly over the thin line of Loki's raphe, plays over his head with a _swirl_ of movement, and then he leans, as if he is to thrust his tongue into Loki's cunny and stretch forth the pink lips, but just as he feels Loki stiffen in anticipation, he thrusts his tongue to the other's arse instead.

Loki's groan is low, and he fists his pretty fingers in the fur he has thrown over the sofa, spreading his legs wider as if hoping Thor will fuck him with it, but Thor doesn't. Instead, he puts his hands upon the thick meat of the other man's thighs, flicking his tongue cleverly over and about the edge of Loki's wrinkled _rim_ , teasing and teasing at entrance but never actually entering.

Loki is a chess-player, a manipulator, a _magician_ , and in many things he is patient, but when it comes to carnal pleasures he is not to be kept waiting; before long, he is **squirming** under Thor's skilful mouth and rebelling against the grip of the warrior's hands.

“ _Thor_ ,” Loki bites out after his pretty cock gives a satisfying jerk at his belly, sputtering a fleck white onto the pale skin, “this is not _much_ of an apology--”

“Isn't it, brother?” Thor says, for speech necessitates he stops entirely: Loki lets out a **keen** of loss.

“ **THOR** -”

“ _Loki_.” comes his easy reply, and he presses his thumb to Loki's cunt, slipping into the wet space with filthy **ease**. Loki's eyelids flutter closed, and he _wriggles_.

“Fuck me, Thor.”

“ _Fuck_ you? Why, how am I to do that with my **mouth**?” Loki smacks him hard across the face, _furious_ and fierce of expression, and Thor's response is to throw himself upwards, grabbing Loki by the arms and dragging him from the sofa to the bed to the side of Loki's room. Loki struggles – in play, Thor knows from his stance and movement, for he merely wants to be treated more roughly – as Thor laughs, and Thor throws him down upon the mattress upon his belly.

He has Loki pinned on his belly like some stray bitch beneath a hound within a second or two, shoulders pinned, and his cock is slicked and wet. He feigns deliberation as he settles behind the other, his heavy length sliding between Loki's naked buttocks. “Which hole shall I select, hmm, Loki?” Loki mutters something crass and tries to kick Thor for the sake of kicking Thor; Thor notes the way his back arches as he tries to press his arse against Thor's cock. “Your cunny is ready for me, but your _arse_ , Loki, is not yet prepared – if I were to slide home, would it hurt you?” Loki **wails**. Thor would never, even if Loki _begged_ , and Loki knows this, but the _idea_ still entrances his filthy mind.

It does Thor's, as well.

Thor lines himself up, and he thrusts **swiftly** into the channel of Loki's cunt, delighting in the way the other man cries _**sharply**_ and scrabbles at the sheets below; Thor thrusts with speed, and Loki's cries herald to a quick, startlingly loud finish, until he drops limp beneath Thor's weight and attention, delighting tiredly in the attention Thor lays upon him as he chases his own completion.

Thor pulls back when he feels his balls tighten under his prick, watching his orgasm paint the white flesh of Loki's arse, and then he flips Loki onto his back, looking down at his filthy body with a _smirk_ on his features.

Loki is more languid than ever, self-satisfaction evidently pooled in each of his limbs as he grins up as Thor.

“Am I forgiven?”

“You **are** forgiven.” Loki purrs, and Thor pats Loki's thigh with _some_ affection, grinning back at him.

“ _Good_. I shall attend to Mjeif, then – how long will the powder take to wear off?”

“It hardly lasts for long, brother.” Loki says airily, hiding a _yawn_ behind his hand. “It will have warn off by now, I'm **certain**.”

“Very well.” Thor says with a grin, and he rebuttons his trousers, existing Loki's quarters.

Standing and stretching with a short noise under his breath, Loki charges seiðr upon his hand, and he **blows** it in the direction of the window lattice, that it might seek out Thor's mare and fix her hair before Thor can reach her: it had been a **worthy** plan, in truth, to gain Thor's attention for the afternoon, and Loki will plant evidence of the Ljósálfar product upon Fandral or perhaps Volstagg and delight when Thor challenges them for the _sin_ of colouring his horse's hair.

As if it had caused her any **damage**.

Smirking to himself at a plan well-executed, and distinctly in need of a bath, Loki makes his way with lazy steps towards the bath.

Sweet Thor can be so _easily_ played with, when Loki decides to involve his feelings.


End file.
